They stood beneath a marble colonnade, the air unnaturally still. Other children clustered nearby, whispering in nervous tones.
“So… what now?” Amelinda asked.
“We wait,” Gwen said confidently. “The carrier comes to take us.”
“The carrier?” Heracles frowned. “Who—what is that?”
“Beats me.” Gwen shrugged. “Everyone talks about it, but no one ever says what it is.”
Before Heracles could press, a round blot of blackness slid across the floor—flat and liquid, moving like spilled ink.
“There!” Amelinda pointed, her voice sharp. “Are those… eyes?”
Two narrow white slits gleamed within the shadow.
“And a mouth,” Gwen muttered.
The shape glided forward, silent but deliberate. Suddenly, the floor beneath several children dropped away, as if the marble itself had melted. They vanished with startled cries, their shouts cut off by heavy thuds.
“Watch out!” someone screamed.
Panic exploded. The crowd scattered, sandals slapping the stone, bags clattering to the floor. The black mass stretched and surged, chasing with eerie precision, sliding under feet like a hunting serpent.
A boy tripped. The shadow swallowed his legs up to the waist. His face went chalk white. “Please! Help me!” he cried, arms outstretched. But fear froze the others—they only stumbled back. The mouth widened and dragged him down whole.
Amelinda’s hand shot to Heracles’s sleeve. “What do we do?”
“Stay clear,” Gwen hissed.
“Run!” Heracles barked, grabbing both their wrists.
The shadow lunged. Amelinda stumbled—darkness surged beneath her, binding her legs.
“Heracles!” she screamed.
Heracles spun, heart hammering. He seized her hand and pulled. Gwen caught her other arm, both straining against the drag.
The shadow shuddered, then split open. A roar thundered from its mouth—like wind through a cavern. Pebbles skittered toward the void. The pull ripped at their clothes, dragged their feet.
For a heartbeat, Heracles locked eyes with Gwen—fear stark in both.
Then the darkness yawned wider and swallowed them whole.
Heracles tumbled alone through a twisting tunnel. Freezing walls scraped his shoulders; air howled past his ears. Pain flared as he slammed against stone. He clutched his bag tight until—light.
He burst out onto solid ground, rolling hard. His shoulder burned.
Amelinda and Gwen spilled out seconds later, crashing nearby. The holes sealed shut behind them, leaving smooth stone.
Then the wall rippled again. A grin split the surface—wide, crooked, and glowing pale. From it came a chittering laugh, high-pitched and cruel, like a child mocking them.
Amelinda’s breath caught. Heracles pushed to his feet, jaw tight, hand instinctively to his bag strap. Gwen’s fingers twitched near his scepter.
The grin slid sideways, shrinking until it vanished. The laughter lingered, echoing through the stone chamber.
“I’m fine,” Amelinda said quickly, brushing dust from her skirt though her voice trembled.
Heracles shook his head. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.” But the chill in his chest betrayed him. He swept his gaze across the walls. “The real question is—where are we?”
Amelinda hugged her arms, voice low. “This doesn’t feel like any tunnel.”
Gwen stood stiff, eyes still on the wall. “Everyone was brought here.” His jaw clenched. “That thing dropped us on purpose.”
A faint murmur echoed down the corridor. Heracles turned sharply. A cluster of children huddled by a flickering lamp, pale and rigid. Among them, the boy who had screamed earlier sat trembling, eyes locked on the dark.
Heracles followed their gaze.
The tunnel seemed to contract. From the shadows, something immense and impossibly old loomed—still, silent, yet radiating a pressure that pressed against his chest. The air thickened, heavy with the metallic tang of iron and something older, fouler, like dust from tombs long forgotten. Every inhale tasted of rust and smoke, and a faint, almost imperceptible hum vibrated under his skin, a resonance that seemed to echo from the creature itself.
The flickering lanterns cast trembling amber light across slick stone walls, but shadows pooled unnaturally, deeper and more saturated than darkness ought to be, swallowing corners and curling around the edges of perception. The creature itself reflected no light, yet its scales—dark, segmented, amber-tinted panels embedded like doors—glowed faintly, molten from within, hinting at incomprehensible energy.
Heracles’s hand went to his side, ready to strike, yet he froze. Every instinct screamed to run or fight, but fascination and disbelief held him fast.
Around him, the children mirrored his dread. Amelinda’s eyes were wide, lips parted in a silent gasp. Gwen’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. The chubby boy whimpered softly, pressing his face into his knees. Even the shadows seemed to lean toward the creature, as though the air itself recognized its supremacy.
A segment of the creature shifted, a low, grinding hiss rolling through the tunnel like stone scraping on stone. The sound vibrated in the air, resonant and oppressive, setting teeth on edge. Every exhale felt thick, like breathing through water, yet the tunnel remained deathly still, save for that single, deliberate movement.
The lanterns flickered again, light dimming to an almost surreal, golden-red haze that made the shadows blacker by contrast. The walls seemed slick with condensation, but it wasn’t water—it was the metallic tang of the creature’s presence seeping into everything. The air was heavy, warm yet suffocating, carrying an odor of old iron, burned wood, and something faintly sweet—like decay wrapped in honey.
The creature did not move further. It didn’t need to. Its presence warped the senses, bending sound, smell, light, and air itself. The tunnel had become a prism of fear, and for the first time, Heracles realized the danger wasn’t in its claws or teeth—it was in the oppressive, immobile weight of its being.
A sudden rustle made the children jump, hearts hammering. From the shadows shuffled a humpbacked man, an old lamp swaying from his thin fingers. His face was a map of wrinkles, but his dark eyes glowed warm, and the crooked smile that tugged at his lips calmed the worst of their fear.
“Easy now,” he said gently, his voice low and steady. “No need for panic. I’m Aiden.” He lifted the lamp higher, the golden glow softening the heavy dark.
The children stiffened but did not flee.
“That,” Aiden added, nodding behind him, “is Grogon. A ground dragon. Still young—one day it could coil around the world. But don’t fear. It won’t harm you. Dragons like this are bound to the Underworld, tasked to carry travelers safely. Today, it’s your carrier.”
Heracles’s shoulders tightened, but Aiden’s calm made the air easier to breathe.
“You’ve survived the Shadow-shifter’s tricks,” Aiden said with a crooked grin. “That alone proves you’re fit to reach Hippocoon.”
The tunnel shook. A chorus of countless legs rattled beneath Grogon’s massive body, a sound like rain drumming on hollow stone. The creature raised its head, folds of scaled skin like ridged mountains, amber eyes glowing from shadowed sockets. Its breath rolled warm, metallic, tinged with earth.
“Welcome, children,” Grogon rumbled. The voice was deep, resonant, yet gentle, vibrating through the stone floor and into their bones. “I am Grogon, your carrier to Hippocoon. I am… pleased to meet you.”
The scent of oil and iron mingled in the air. Despite its size, the dragon radiated something protective, like an ancient guardian keeping watch.
“See the doors on my body?” Grogon’s eyes lowered to the three friends. “Step inside. Each leads to a compartment with seats. Once we depart, you won’t return until next year.”
The doors slid open with a soft grind, light spilling from within.
Aiden caught hold of the nearest door. “See you at Hippocoon,” he called, slipping inside. The door shut after him.
“Hurry,” Grogon urged, its vast voice echoing like a mountain shifting.
For a moment, Heracles, Gwen, and Amelinda lingered with the others, nerves warring with curiosity. Then, one by one, children began stepping inside.
Heracles swallowed hard and went first.
Heracles and the Nemean Lion
The first epic in the Heracles and the Twelve Labors series — witness Heracles' legendary battle against the invincible lion. A tale of strength, fate, and immortal valor.
Heracles and the Dragon Hydra
The second chapter of the Heracles and the Twelve Labors series. Heracles faces the monstrous Hydra — a dragon-like beast with many heads, each reborn from the last. A mythic journey of courage, strategy, and divine challenge.
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